


Heart in Hand

by grayimperia



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 08:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayimperia/pseuds/grayimperia
Summary: “I wanted to give you something that would make you happy. And that thing seemed to be,” Kiibo feels his face beginning to warm again. “Something that would make you feel appreciated or… loved, I suppose.”The bright energy that had been consuming Iruma earlier seems to vanish in an instance, and she stares at him stunned. “Y-You…” she squirms in place, muttering to herself, “What the fuck…”-Kiibo gives Iruma a gift.





	Heart in Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serahne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serahne/gifts).



> Salmon mode au.

Kaede had said, “I know what some of you are probably thinking, but this _is_ a good idea. Like, it may be silly, but it really will help us all to get to know each other a little better.”

Saihara stood behind her, tugging at his bangs anxiously as his hat was currently in use to carry around the sixteen folded pieces of paper to each of them in turn as Kaede approached them. Most took theirs without protest and with some effort not to give away their reaction to seeing whoever’s name they had selected. 

Kiibo watched curiously from his seat at the table, making sure to smile politely when Kaede eventually made her way to tilt Saihara’s hat towards him. He hadn’t been sure if he had any particular preference—though part of him was dully aware drawing Ouma’s name would likely lead to some strife—and calmly drew away again with a slightly crumpled piece of paper. 

Kaede smiled at him slightly in confirmation, and continued on to Maki sitting beside him. With little reason to wait, Kiibo brought the paper close to his chest and unfolded it to see _Iruma Miu_ in Kaede’s neat handwriting.

_Iruma Miu_. Kiibo furrowed his brow, daring to spare a glance to the girl in question, making a rather sour face at the paper in her hands. He had thought he had had no preference, but something in his metal choice suddenly felt tight in a way he couldn’t quite put into words. 

Kaede finally brought the hat back to Saihara, letting each of them take the last two slips of paper before allowing him to finally reclaim his hat. After a moment, Kaede clapped her hands, saying, “Alright—did anyone get themselves?”

Ouma raised his hand. “Me.”

Kiibo kept his eyes focused on Iruma, shoving the paper into one of her pockets and crossing her arms with a huff. 

“Okay, well,” Kaede began. “I guess we could—”

“No, you didn’t,” Momota spoke up beside him.

Kiibo tried to think, but Iruma had almost everything, and anything she didn’t have, she could easily make. As eccentric and difficult to comprehend as she could be at times, that was one thing Kiibo was very sure he knew about her. 

“Yes, I did,” Ouma countered.

“You did not.”

With their confinement in the school—albeit, a thankfully peaceful one—actively seeking out presents would be difficult even for someone who wore their wants on their sleeve. 

Iruma was, Kiibo couldn’t help but notice, a completely self made person. It wasn’t a matter of wanting to make her happy, but rather a question of his sheer ability to give her anything she didn’t already have. That thought did nothing to mend whatever strange feeling was beating in his metal heart.

“I did, too!”

“No, you fucking didn’t!” Momota had said, finally shoving his paper in Ouma’s face. “Because I got you, you little liar.”

“Ohhhh,” Ouma said, leaning back happily in his chair. “I see, I see, my mistake. Well then, carry on Akamatsu-chan.”

Kaede pressed a hand to her forehead, letting out an exasperated sigh. Kiibo kept thinking as the room around him launched into general bickering, though one noticeably absent of Iruma’s usual arching voice repetitively rising in waves of brash confidence and falling again in nervous whimpering. 

But by the time Kiibo had looked up to question this, Iruma had already left, leaving him to do little besides wonder in silence amidst the chaos. 

-

The question of where to actually get anything that could resemble a present was a fairly simple one.

Kaede had mentioned at a slightly calmer dinner later that night that handmade presents were always better and truly showed you cared. Angie had immediately chimed into agree, saying, “That’s right, that’s right! That’s why Angie’s making a portrait of Rantaro for her present!”

To her credit, Kaede’s pained expression was slightly more masked this time as she said, “That’s great, though maybe everyone could try to keep who they’re giving their gift to secret since that’s… kind of the point.”

“As if anyone gives a shit about that,” Iruma snorted. “Oh, and by the way, Bakamatsu the fuck do you want for this stupid thing? Something to help your tits seem less fa—”

“Iruma-san,” Kaede said tightly. “I’m going to warn you now that if you try and give me anything pornographic, I will uninvite you from the exchange.”

“Y-You can’t do that!” Iruma squeaked. 

Maki, of all people, quirked an eyebrow. “And why can’t she? It’s her exchange—she can kick out whoever she wants.”

Kaede nodded hesitantly. “Well, I’d prefer not to go that far, but yeah.”

Iruma worried her bottom lip between her teeth before stammering out, “F-Fine! Guess I’ll just make something to improve the sex life of someone who’s actually getting some then!”

“After you make your gift for Akamatsu,” Maki said. “Unless you are planning on dropping out.”

Iruma seemed to crumble again under their dual fire, and Kiibo watched silently, trying to figure out what was happening right in front of him.

-

Iruma made enough of a production of going to her lab after dinner that Kiibo had very little guess work to do in seeking her out. 

His polite knocks on the heavy dinner echo in the still night air just enough to make him feel a sudden rush of hesitance when it shifts open just enough to reveal one of Iruma’s eyes. “Oh,” she says, whatever hostility that had been building up in her suddenly evaporating as she pulls the door open further. “What’s up—need maintenance or some shit?”

Kiibo shakes his head. “Not at the moment. Instead, I was wondering if it would be alright if I attempted to make something in your lab as a present for—”

“Ah, I get it,” Iruma says. “You’re fucking coming up barren for ideas so you wanna copy off of me, huh?” She cackles, and, to Kiibo’s surprise, pushes the door open further. “Well, I can’t blame you for turning to a genius like me, but let me warn you, the crap I’m throwing together for Bakamatsu is boring as shit.”

Kiibo simply smiles as he says with complete honesty, “I am sure it is still very impressive, though. All of your inventions are.” 

Iruma stutters something in confirmation of his statement as he walks through the door and into her lab. As he takes in his surroundings in the ever daunting room, Iruma manages to recover and waves her hand vaguely towards the center table as she mentions needing a moment to gather some more materials for herself.

Kiibo has little intention to build a gift for her right in front of her eyes, but he reasons that perhaps seeing her in her workplace will give him some sort of clue about whatever could be missing in her life that a present he could cobble together or win from the student store would fill the hole of. 

As it stands, the only thing for him to actively observe is the beginnings of Iruma’s own project laid out on the worktable. Careful not to touch anything out of fear of breaking it, Kiibo leans forward to examine the beginnings of something he can only guess at. With his little technical know how, he can make out little other than what appears to be a few small vibrating motors, and Kaede’s warnings from dinner echo in his head.

He hears the sounds of Iruma’s heavy boots walking towards him again, and he asks, “Iruma-san, if you do not mind me asking, what are you making Akamatsu-san?” He looks over his shoulder to her. “Is it… something unseemly like she was talking about?”

Iruma moves next to him to drop the supplies laden in her arms on to the table as she snorts. “Nah, like I said this shit’s boring. Bakamatsu’s got a stick up her ass and would probably sucker punch me if I actually gave her something fun.”

“Well,” Kiibo says. “She did get rather upset at the idea of being given a… questionable gift, which I believe is fairly reasonable.”

Iruma scowls, something oddly serious crossing over her face. “Yeah, well, obviously she can’t take a fucking joke.”

Her response and sudden stiff posture is enough to change the subject, and Kiibo watches as Iruma slowly returns to constructing her gift, casually explaining how each piece fits together to make what she explains is a hand massager. “Since, you know,” she says. “Pianists tend to fuck up their wrists or fingers or whatever—that’s a thing, right?”

Kiibo nods and voices aloud his slight surprise. “This is a very thoughtful present, Iruma-san—I do not believe Akamatsu-san was expecting something like this when you were talking earlier.”

“Nah,” she tosses her hair over with a slight cackle. “And she sure got her panties in a twist over it.”

Kiibo’s first thought is to comment on how Iruma has cultivated enough of a reputation for herself to warrant said reaction, but he knows that revelation would do little. Instead he says, “Perhaps. Iruma-san, may I ask you a question?”

“Go for it,” she says without looking up from her work.

Kiibo, too, focuses his eyes on the deliberate movements of her gloved hands as he says, “You do not seem to think very highly of Akamatsu-san or her gift exchange, but you are making a very nice present for her and seemed rather distraught at the idea of not participating. I hope you do not mind me saying so, but I am having a difficult time putting those facts together logically.”

Iruma fidgets, her brow forming a sharp crease, and Kiibo notices a few beads of sweat on her temple when he shifts his gaze to her. Her odd silence is concerning, and Kiibo can practically see her brain working to find some sort of answer when she finally says, “Look, maybe Bakamatsu’s shit but I can’t just look like a fucking scrub, you know?”

“I,” though Kiibo likes spending time with Iruma, he has quickly come to recognize that she is the person whose choice of words most often stump his word processing. “I am afraid I am having a bit of difficulty following that.”

Iruma huffs, finally turning to him. “Alright, look at it this way—maybe my audience doesn’t know their head from their ass, but that doesn’t mean I should act like I don’t either. I’m the fucking ultimate inventor, and I’ve got a reputation to uphold. That make sense?”

“I suppose,” Kiibo says. “I just believe I am having trouble figuring out why you want to impress people whose opinions you do not value. Unless I am missing something, of course.”

Iruma wilts under his sudden observation and hurriedly turns back to her work in retreat. “Y-Yeah—that’s right. I-I don’t care what anyone else thinks, and I’m just doing this for me, that’s all. ‘Sides,” she runs a hand through her stringy hair, some of her confidence swimming back to her. “I want to stay in the exchange ‘cause… ‘cause if Bakamatsu kicks me out, I won’t get anything.”

Kiibo perks up at the sudden change in topic. “Oh, is there anything in particular you are hoping to receive?”

“Nah,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders. “And knowing how little imagination any of those virgins have, it’ll probably be something lame.”

“But,” Kiibo says, genuinely confused. “You just said you still wanted something.”

She waves a hand vaguely. “Well, I’m not gonna just stand there like a fucking moron when everyone else gets shit.”

Kiibo doesn’t say it aloud, but he thinks idly just how much Iruma must want to be part of the group. But, of course, as he glances down to his metal hands, he supposes he isn’t in much of a place to challenge her. 

-

The Monomono Machine proves to have a wide variety of presents, however, Kiibo’s attempt to test it ends before it begins as every time he walks by, someone else seems to be in the room trying their luck for a halfway decent present themselves. 

He still can’t be too upset with his failed attempt as the gifts he has seen his classmates exiting the room with ranged from passable to completely bizarre—the case of Momota walking out holding what appeared to be a decrepit limb from some animal by the tips of two of his fingers and as far away from him as possible stands out in Kiibo’s mind as a particularly pointed reason to simply avoid the student store altogether. 

He then instead finds himself in the casino, completely dazzled by the much nicer items lined up in the Monokubs’ display case. At his arrival, he sees Maki handing over a few large stacks of coins to the Monokub with glasses, the tiny robot asking her, “Youse want this wrapped up, too?”

She notices Kiibo’s entrance out of the corner of her eyes and tracks him even as she curtly nods her head. Kiibo opens his mouth as he approaches, but Maki quickly cuts him off. “It’s not for the exchange, and it’s not for you.”

Kiibo isn’t exactly sure how to respond to that. “Oh, I see,” he says despite understanding very little. 

Maki stays silent, and Kiibo opts to say something to provide some conversation in the uncomfortable quiet. “So, Harukawa-san, did you play games here to win enough coins then?”

She looks at him, her expression vaguely asking if he’s an idiot as she says, “I didn’t feel like looking under desks in the rest of the school, no.” She jerks her head slightly towards one of the machines. “Spending time here is annoying, but it’s easy to get enough coins at that game.”

Kiibo follows her gaze, storing the information away for later as the Monokub waddles back to them, handing a box wrapped with a bright pink bow over to Maki. Kiibo again opens his mouth to begin asking questions when Maki says, “It’s just something for Akamatsu in case Iruma decides to be an idiot, which she probably will knowing her.”

“Oh,” Kiibo says, for some reason vaguely insulted by her words. “Well, I can assure you that is not the case.”

Maki quirks an eyebrow at him, but says nothing as she leaves with her gift in hand.

He watches her go, and the Monokub behind the counter calls out to him, “Ey, robot kid, I ain’t runnin’ a museum here. Buy somethin’ or window shop elsewhere—I got customers waitin’.”

Kiibo briefs glances at the empty casino as he clears his throat. “Ah, yes, well, I am looking to buy something. What would you recommend for someone who wants…” he thinks hard for a moment before saying, “someone who wants to be accepted or perhaps feel admired.”

The bear looks at him for a moment, adjusting his glasses before a vaguely concerning smile spreads over his mechanical face. “Oh, I get it—someone lookin’ for a little love, is that right?”

“I suppose in a sense,” Kiibo says as the bear gestures to a shining gold key. 

“Then this here is what youse want,” he says. “Use it and youse’ll get all the love and acceptance and shit youse could hope for.”

Kiibo nods, staring down at the key and its astronomical price tag. “I… see.”

A few of the other items in the display case catch his attention briefly, but the glimmering gold never leaves his eye, and with a deep resignation of what he is about to do, Kiibo makes his way to the machine Maki had directed him to earlier.

-

For better or worse, Kiibo finds himself in a simple enough rhythm in playing the game after a few tries with only his below average reflexes holding him back as the right colored fish swim across the screen. 

He’s nearing his goal and his focus is lazered in on the game when he hears a voice behind him croon, “Whatcha doing, Kiiboy?”

Kiibo jerks slightly in surprise, briefly tearing his eyes off of the game to see Ouma hovering behind his shoulder. As soon as he does so, he recognizes his mistake and snaps his attention back to the screen, barely catching the fish before it wiggles completely out of sight.

With Kiibo’s lack of response, Ouma merely hums as he leans forward to get a better look at the game, saying, “Sooo have you turned to a life of gambling then?”

“No,” Kiibo says. “And I do not intend to gamble again after a few more games either.”

Ouma clicks his tongue. “That’s what they all say, but they always come back and end up losing the shirt off their backs. Ooh, ooh! For you would that be your robot armor? Can you take that off? Oooh, I wanna see! I wanna see naked Kiiboy! Or are you naked already?”

“I am not removing part of my body nor am I unclothed!” Kiibo says sharply. “And also I am trying to focus, Ouma-kun. If you want to have a conversation, I will be done in a few minutes.”

Ouma turns disinterestedly to examine his fingernails. “Oh, please. I’m waaaay more interested in spending sometime with the other hunk of bolts here.”

“Do I even need to point out your robophobia?” Kiibo huffs. “And also are you saying you simply want a turn with this game?”

“Yup!” he says. “I need to win big for Akamatsu-chan’s exchange, and everyone knows this is the easiest game to cheat at.”

Kiibo frowns. “I suppose I also do not need to point out that cheating—even at one of Monokuma’s absurd games—is wrong.” 

Ouma lets out an exaggerated yawn and continues his usual chatter with the occasional scattered barb at Kiibo’s expense thrown in, when Kiibo finally says, “Ouma-kun, I understand you are waiting for this game, but if you want to earn coins, there are others you could play in the meantime.”

“I could,” he says. “Buuuut right now I’m having fun talking to you and trying to guess what present you’re trying to buy. You know,” his voice suddenly lowers to something conspiratorial, “you sure have won a lot of games, Kiiboy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there’s one item in particular you might be going for.”

“I am not sure I understand what you mean,” Kiibo says, an unexpected dread rising over him. 

But then Ouma’s back to his usual smile. “Of course you don’t because that was a lie.” He laughs airily, but Kiibo still can’t help but feel he’s being tested somehow. “You’re not the kind of person who would want something like, right? You know—because you’re not a person?”

Kiibo huffs. “I am not even going to bother acknowledging that remark.”

“Have it your way,” Ouma says. “But still, there’s really only one reason you would be trying to win something right now. Soooo who’d you get? Who’d you get?” he asks, excitedly rocking on his heels. “C’mon, c’mon! Who is it? If it’s Saihara-chan, I’ll trade you!”

“It is not Saihara-kun,” Kiibo says. “And I also believe Akamatsu-san does not want us sharing that information yet anyway.”

Ouma hums. “So you want me to guess, huh? Okay, I guess that’s not too boring a game to play right now.”

Kiibo rolls his eyes as finally the machine pays out enough coins on his final game. Ouma rattles off a few questions Kiibo ignores as he shifts through his money, internally calculating how much he’s accumulated. 

“Alright, Ouma-kun,” Kiibo says, backing away from the machine, coins in hand. “The game is all yours.”

He nods at him, expecting that to be the end of their conversation, but Ouma trails after him to the prize counter. The Monokub Kiibo had spoken to earlier is still there and opts to do little other than count the coins Kiibo places in front of him in neat stacks.

Ouma watches the exchange carefully, eyes shifting quickly between the coins, Kiibo, the prizes below, and back again. Very slowly, his face breaks out into a wide grin as he says, “Sooo, looks like you are that kind of person after all, huh? Or getting a present for someone who is.”

His smile only grows as the bear reaches under the counter for the key, and he says, “You know, if it is Saihara-chan, I’m gonna be real jealous now.”

Kiibo catches the meaning behind whatever he’s saying enough to feel his face begin to burn as the Monokub slides the key across the counter to him. He opens his mouth to try and argue back in some way when Ouma quickly says to the bear, “two, please!” and begins to pull coins of his own out of his pockets.

“You,” Kiibo says. “Had those the whole time… So why did you want the machine so badly?”

“Because,” Ouma says, happily grabbing the second key the bear places on the counter. “I’ve always thought it’s important to treat yourself first. Maybe things would be different if I got my beloved Saihara-chan, since you know.” He winks at Kiibo. “Only person you’d want to share this with would be someone like that, right?”

“I-I can assure that it is not whatever you seem to be implying,” Kiibo stammers.

“Whatever you say, Kiiboy,” he says, already turning away and adding over his shoulder, “And I’d give that to Iruma-chan in private if I were you—just some friendly advice.”

He skips away, leaving Kiibo to do little other than gape in his wake until the Monokub raps on the counter behind him, telling him to stop scaring away his many customers.

Kiibo exits the casino with shuffling steps, holding the key close to his chest and wondering if this is a good idea at all. If the key in his hand—or whatever it brings—is even close to what Iruma wants. 

The bear had said it brought love and appreciation, and Kiibo stares down at it settled in his metal hand, and can’t quite convince himself that isn’t what Iruma’s missing.

-

As red as his face was when Ouma had given him the advice, Kiibo feels it glowing even hotter when he finds himself taking it, pulling Iruma aside after she had shoved her own gift in Kaede’s face. Ouma positioning the weird arm from some dead creature in his hand to give him a thumbs up on their way out does little to ease the renewed tightness in his chest.

He had placed it in a simple gift bag and can’t quite meet Iruma’s eyes as he holds it at arm’s length. She lets out a laugh as she takes it, saying, “So it was you—had a feeling when you fucking asked me to my face what I wanted.”

“I-I suppose I could have been more subtle, yes,” Kiibo says, eyes fixed on her movements as she begins to root through the bag. “I understand this present might seem a bit odd, b-but I was assured that it was…”

His words die in his throat as Iruma pulls the key from the bag, her eyes bulging at the sight of it. The notion that perhaps this was a terrible idea surges up through him again, when Iruma’s hand not currently clutching the key darts out to grab his. She moves through the hall with brisk steps, and Kiibo finds it difficult to match her long strides for the first few steps until finally adopting a slight jog to prevent his arm from potentially being torn out of its socket. 

Iruma doesn’t say anything, instead only staring forward with a singular focus that is only interrupted when they finally reach the rather gaudy hotel on the edges of the school. 

She releases Kiibo’s hand to fumble with the key, and he hesitantly speaks up. “Iruma-san? Uh, forgive me, but I…” he finds he has no idea what exactly to say in this situation.

“It’s fine!” she says hurriedly. “It’s fine, it’s fine—we’ll just—” the door clicks open and she squeaks at it, practically jumping through the open door. Kiibo stares after her, and after a long moment of contemplation, follows her inside. 

The interior of the building appears as gaudy to him as the outside, yet the rows of locked doors leave little exploring to be done as only one of them hangs open, and he predictably finds Iruma inside, giddily inspecting everything from the bed to the strange carousal horse circling the room. 

He’s about to call out to her again, when she leaps up, saying, “Okay, okay! I’ve got the key, so let me have it, Kiibs.”

“Have what?” 

“You know!” Iruma says. “Your wildest fantasy! C’mon—that’s what this fucking place is all about! So what are you into?”

Kiibo blinks. “What am I into? Do you mean…” he tries to think even as the situation before him seems close to incomprehensible. “Do you mean what do I want to do here?”

“Yeah!” she says, moving to sit on the bed with a slight bounce and patting the spot next to her. “Lay it on me, Kiibs—you gave me this key for a fucking reason, yeah?”

He furrows his brow as he moves to sit beside her. “I did,” he says. “I wanted to give you something that would make you happy. And that thing seemed to be,” he feels his face beginning to warm again. “Something that would make you feel appreciated or… loved, I suppose.”

The bright energy that had been consuming her earlier seems to vanish in an instance, and she stares at him stunned. “Y-You…” she squirms in place, muttering to herself, “What the fuck…” as a blush starts to rise over her face as well.

They sit in silence, the slight creaking of the strange carousal horse unfortunately the only source of noise in the room.

Iruma fidgets, obviously uncomfortable, and Kiibo is about to apologize for this whole thing, when her hand scrambles to move on top of his lying lamely on the bed, almost as if the movement was completely random. His eyes dart from their hands up to her face to see her chewing on her lip and purposefully not looking at him and back again.

Without saying a word, Kiibo shifts his hand slightly to take a better hold of hers. They sit quietly for a while longer, and Kiibo feels her grip on his hand tighten slightly even as she still stares straight ahead. 

He thinks that, perhaps, the whole thing is silly and, perhaps, Iruma still may be a bit beyond his comprehension, too. But he also knows he can feel the softness of her hand and see the tiny, genuine, smile appearing on her face. 

And they sit in silence amidst the warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> Today is the first day of kiiruma week, and I happened to have this fic from an exchange a few months back that fit the prompt for today and, well, I've been meaning to post this for a while, too, haha. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
